The Victimhood Check
by alicekinsno1
Summary: Tamaki was surrounded all day, every day by people who were suffering. If only someone would notice that he wasn't happy either!


_A/N: This is a scene that I've wanted to write for a long time, because it's a reflection of something I see in my own life that's been bugging me for a while. I'm hoping that eventually it will find its way into a larger fanfic, but for now I just wanted to put it out there before I forgot it._

* * *

It had been nearly a year since Tamaki had recruited Genkaku Azuma to lead the Undertakers, his very own anti-Deadman task force. Tamaki had been pleased to find that the young man took to the job almost immediately, and very quickly made a name for himself owing to his toughness and leadership qualities. Of course, things hadn't been problem-free: in the early stages he had a frustrating habit of murdering his fellow Undertakers. By now, however, he had mellowed out considerably—largely thanks to the guitars and music collections that Tamaki had given him—and no longer killed except on missions. According to reports from the security guards monitoring G-Block, he was even quite fun to watch, and they often caught footage of Genkaku having chummy conversations with Mozuri and Shinagawa, the two leaders of the second Undertaker division. What made this so remarkable was that the two boys had been found living in the woods, feasting on human flesh, at the time of their arrest, and nearly everyone who knew them, including Tamaki himself, had dismissed them as lost causes utterly incapable of a remotely normal social life until Genkaku had vouched for them. They had learned quickly under their captain's guidance, though, and now they were his most trusted lieutenants.

One day, during one of Tamaki's regularly-scheduled visits to G-Block, Genkaku asked Tamaki: "So how the hell did you get to be in charge here, anyway?"

"Why do you ask?" Tamaki said suspiciously.

"Well," said Genkaku with a nasty smile, "it's just that Mozuri and Shinagawa can't comprehend how someone so weak and pathetic could ever be in charge of anything."

Tamaki felt his blood boil at Genkaku's off-the-cuff insults. No matter how many he heard he still never got used to them. He could, of course, slap Genkaku with some sort of punishment for sassing his boss, but he had more important hills to die on. That wasn't necessarily a figure of speech: for all the progress Genkaku had made since his arrival he was still an extremely dangerous man, whom others crossed at their peril. Besides, he had to admit that he found some of his barbs funny—until he was on the receiving end. He sighed. "If you must know, I'm the director's son. His illegitimate son," Tamaki groaned, drawing out the word "illegitimate" in displeasure.

Now Genkaku was interested. He fixed Tamaki in his gaze with a look of genuine astonishment.

"Yeah," said Tamaki, stroking his brow. He was liking this conversation less and less by the minute. "Some time ago he roped my mom into having an affair with him, and I was the result." It was only then that he realized he had a point of connection to the man across from him. He smiled softly. "So you see, I'm a bastard just like you."

Genkaku stopped walking and his breath hitched in his throat. His eyes narrowed a little. Tamaki realized he'd said something very bad. "What?" he said. "You don't think we have a lot in common? We're both bastards, all alone in the world, who kinda-sorta killed their own mothers—"

The next thing Tamaki knew, he was crushed against Genkaku's chest as the latter held him in a bear hug. The blade of a short sword was an inch away from his throat. "No," Genkaku hissed into his ear. "I really don't think we have that much in common. I mean, I've been living with this survivor guilt since birth and my brother told me I ruined his life just by my mere existence. And now I live in this hellhole prison that you built and work my ass off to keep those fucking Deadmen and Undertakers in line while you sit in your office playing all day. But please, tell me all about how you're just like me and totally understand how I feel! Eh?" He then withdrew his sword and stalked off in a huff.

For a while Tamaki just stood there, shivering, scared out of his mind. But, as he thought about it further, he realized that what he felt was more than just fear. It was hurt. Genuine hurt. He immediately fled G-Block, feeling a lump rising in his throat and willing himself not to cry.

Many hours later, when Rei Takashima came to Tamaki's office to deliver a report, she found him sprawled on his couch, ramming a toy plane and boat together in an obvious display of frustration. The entire office was messier than usual, and she noticed that several board games had been overturned and their pieces scattered all over the floor. "What the hell happened here?" she asked as she gingerly set her papers down on his desk and lit a cigarette. "This place looks like a typhoon ran through it! I don't think I've ever seen you this upset!"

For a while Tamaki just stared at her with a sour expression, bashing his toys together. Then he tossed them both into the air and threw up his hands in frustration. Rei Takashima instinctively ducked. "That damn Genkaku!" he shouted finally.

Rei Takashima couldn't help but smirk. "What did he do to you?" she asked, taking a drag on her cigarette.

"He's just so high and mighty!" Tamaki groaned, rubbing his forehead. "He's all, 'Oh, look at me, look at me! I'm an orphan! I never knew my mom or my dad! I went to train as a goddamn _monk_ of all things until the temple was destroyed in the Red Hole! Then I killed a lot of people and went to jail!'" As Tamaki spoke, he sprawled melodramatically on the couch, kicking his legs and waving his arms. "'O pity me! My life is so hard! Look at everything I've suffered!'" He collapsed, rubbing his eyes. At last he sighed and said: "I wish my mother had died giving birth to me. People might've been forced to sympathize with me if that happened. I never liked my mother anyway. She was always so cold. Whatever I did her response was always the same: stick me in front of the TV or stick a game console in my hand."

Rei Takashima furrowed her brow, and put her free hand on her hip. "So, what you're saying is, you wish you were more like a man whose wrists are covered with self-harm scars, and whose life at the Buddhist temple was so miserable he refuses to even discuss what it was like with anyone?"

"Not exactly," Tamaki said in a clipped sort of voice. He picked himself up and ran over to the computer, where he began to pull up a screen. "Kiyomasa Senji, codename Crow. Abandoned by his single mother age six, grew up in an orphanage until it was destroyed in the Red Hole. Joined a police force briefly, until all its members were murdered and he was framed for their deaths!" He scrolled down the page. "Idaki Hitara, codename Condor. Wife died of a virulent bacterial infection days after a botched C-section. Had an autistic daughter who killed herself at age twenty-two!" And again, he scrolled down. "Ran Koshio, also known as Karako Koshio, codename Gamefowl. Born to a Japanese father and a mother who emigrated from southern China. Faced bullying all her life for her dark skin and general foreignness, eventually taking up martial arts just to defend herself!" And again. "Minatsuki Takami, codename Hummingbird. Mother walked out on her family following the Red Hole. Was…apparently forced to kill her own father after he made a pass at her!" Tamaki tore at his hair and groaned.

"So…what's your point?" Rei Takashima asked.

"The point is," said Tamaki, "I'm surrounded, all day every day, with people who are suffering horribly. People any sane person would sympathize with on the spot. Where's my sympathy? My life hasn't exactly been sunshine and rainbows either, you know! You think it's easy growing up as the illegitimate son of a psychopathic billionaire, whose mother is so busy juggling the demands of _two_ men—her husband and the father of her child—that she never has any time for you?! Of course it isn't! But no one cares! No one cares because none of that falls under the purview of 'acceptable' reasons to be miserable. No matter how much I suffer, victimhood is a check I'm just not entitled to cash." He walked back over to the couch and slumped down on it, his head in his hands.

Rei Takashima shrugged. "That's one way to look at it," she said. "But look at it this way. You're not the one who's stuck living at the bottom of a hellhole prison. The Deadmen are. And so is Genkaku. He's the one who works for you."

Tamaki frowned. "That's true," he said.

"You know what I think?" Rei Takashima went on. "I think the mere fact that anyone would associate victimhood with virtue just shows how soft we've gone as a society. Think about it: in the wild, there's no virtue associated with being born in less favorable circumstances. You just end up as food. Why should we be any different?" She shrugged. "Those of us who are lucky get to be in charge. Those of us who are unlucky, well, they suffer what they must."

Tamaki sat up. "You have a good point," he said.

"Well…anyway, my paperwork's on your desk. I've got business to attend to in G-Block," said Rei Takashima as she turned to leave.

Just then, Tamaki felt a question nagging at him. "Say, Takashima," he said. "Did you ever suffer in your life?"

Rei Takashima shrugged. "I don't see it that way," she said. "I mean…I could dwell on the fact that I was taken away from my real parents at the age of two years old. Or, I could thank my lucky stars that I was adopted into a nice family and lived an easy life ever since. And now, I terrorize all those oh-so-noble, long-suffering Deadmen!" She laughed as she walked out the door.

Tamaki watched her go. Then, slowly, he picked himself up off the couch and began to clean up around his office. As he did so, he thought back to the first time he had met Genkaku, when he was still a prisoner out in Osaka. He had been handcuffed to a chair, thin and weak from hunger, his voice barely above a whisper. And now Tamaki was wishing he could be more like him? Oh, how times had changed!

The games all put away, Tamaki returned to his desk and began to look over the paperwork Rei Takashima had given him. He smiled strangely.

* * *

 _A/N: I was inspired to write this after I noticed a growing trend in society to treat victimhood as if it were somehow virtuous. But the problem is, it has to be a certain kind of victimhood: if you're suffering but it doesn't meet a certain set of criteria, no one will take your pain seriously because "there are others who are worse off." I feel like of all the cast members, Tamaki would be most likely to end up in that situation._


End file.
